Mad-Hatter talks
by MistyLottie
Summary: He has barely few memories of his past and is stuck in rose garden, constantly watched and bored, until one day something unexpected happens. It's a story about how a person once known as Hatter appeared in Wonderland and became Mad Hatter.
1. Chapter 1

**Soo. I'm back with my third story. Had this idea for some time and now it's here. This chapter is sort of like a prologue so it's not long, hopefully others will be longer.  
Instead of giving names I decided to put a quote from a song/poem/whatever, which partly reflects what is going happen, at the beginning of every chap.  
Done talking. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing ;)**

 **Oh, must add that I own nothing but the idea.**

 **Chapter 1**

" _I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time  
And every creature lends themselves to change your state of mind"_

* * *

For as long as he could remember the world has been upside-down, he has been mad and roses couldn't bloom anything but white.

Parted lips, somewhat goggle bloodshot and roving greenish eyes, hairy head tilted to one side – he observed the red petals of a rose and a white disheveled rabbit, that didn't know how to talk, nibbling the grass nearby.

A chessboard with its chessmen lying all around it, some dark lizard basking in the sun on the top of it. And a deck of scattered cards, drowning in the grass.

As he absent-mindedly scanned the incredibly green lawn, his eye caught a moving shadow. Small and graceful. The man lifted his head shifting the attention to a black cat on the lowest branch of a contorted English oak. Today it hasn't tried to steal his hat, yet. The cat yawned baring its tiny sharp teeth before making itself comfortable, readying for a midday nap.

Man slowly sank down, leaning his back against the hedge. Its twigs cracked under his weight and he ended up being half stuck between them. As always. He breathed out fixing his ever-roaming gaze on a mansion ahead. It wasn't nice.

They said it was.

A massive construction of red bricks. A creeper climbing up its left side. The best thing about it. He glared at a polished window on the second floor, just below the attic where he has been living.

"Do _you_ call that living?" uttered, addressing the words to no-one in particular.

His own voice startled him a bit. It sounded differently in whispers and inside his head.

"What are you looking at?" frowned at the rabbit from before which was indeed staring at him. "You're pretty creepy, you know. Those red eyes…"

Man shut his mouth – his thoughts were already somewhere else. But it only took another mild whiff of breeze to distract him again.

 _Tap._

A soft paw landed on person's hat, pushing it onto his eyes. Quiet miaow followed. He grabbed his hat and took it off, turned back to see the cat. Hissed at it.

"If you want something for your tiny little head, you must _ask_. I shall turn you in for… Criminal activities!"

Furry little animal miaowed again, jumping down towards white rabbit that then dived under the green fence. Man cast a mocking glance at the cat padding away in a dignified manner.

"Mister Hatter!"

He flinched. Such calls would annoy him, and they would never disappear. They've been haunting him.

A slim figure wearing white was rushing across the garden. Holding something in one hand. A nameless girl, maybe even a woman. Her clothes clashed with the colour of the mansion she had just left.

Red and white. For some reason it didn't seem they could ever look good together.

Red drop of blood on pale skin. Spooky.

"Mister Hatter, please take your medicine."

A girl was already by his side. He obediently took the pills from her. Second time today.

"I want to paint roses."

"Oh? Well, I think that's a wonderful idea," she gave him a happy, too happy, smile: white teeth blooming behind red lips.

"They are truly amazing, aren't they? Hard to choose where to start," for a moment his eyes were wandering around the bushes of roses that were planted here and there. "Maybe the white ones?"

When he spun on his heel, ready to stride to the nearest flowers, medicine-girl gave a slight cough.

"Mister Hatter, your medicine."

"Yes, I took it."

"You need to drink it. Now," the tone was lenient, yet somewhat demanding.

"I will, dearie. I just don't want you to see me… keck if I fail to swallow it," man mischievously winked at her while slowly placing the pills on his tongue.

The girl shook her head.

"I don't understand. You seem perfectly fine, so what are you doing here?"

"That is… a one good question."

With that the man, also known as Hatter, walked away, secretly spitting out the medicine back into his palm. He looked about hoping to notice the cat: sometimes it would eat his pills. But the garden seemed to be empty. _Roses then_. And he squatted down beside a rosary in big white blossom.

"For better growth," murmured burying the pills deep into the ground.

Hatter plucked one hardly open flower head. Colour of purity. It should've meant something.

It meant nothing…

What was the reason for planting these flowers of innocence here? In this place, in this stiff, constrained garden they had no meaning. Beauty? They were too fair, too simple to be beautiful. Nobody would notice them, they were too faint. Filling of the space? That was the most acceptable version.

He kept staring at the rose, at its pale petals the way he watched the red ones some time earlier. A thing doesn't exist if it doesn't have a purpose, significance. And yet, in this forgotten garden, white roses bloomed every year. Nobody would take care of them. Nobody but him. Was he the reason they could grow here? Perhaps…

Few times he was mistaken for a gardener.

"You will be visible, just like them."

His hushed voice was met with a light tremble of the bloom. It disappointed him greatly when he realized it was only his hand.

Reaching out his other hand Hatter pressed his index finger against one of the many thorns that were bulging on the sprays of the bush. Despite an unpleasant feeling he kept pressing it until first drop of blood squirted out on his skin. As in some kind of trance man brushed his finger over the rose head, leaving a soft reddish trace behind. Squeezing out another drop he repeated. And again. And again…

"Mister Hatter!"

Green-eyed man gave a shiver and riveted his orbs on the girl in white, standing right in front of him with her arms crossed. She looked quite… stunned.

"What are you doing?"

Baffled Hatter ran his wide, babyish puzzled eyes over his field of vision.

"I," he blinked and glanced at the flower in his palm. "I'm painting a rose. Is there something wrong?"

* * *

 **Well, that's it for now. How was it? I mean it's not really some action story so it might be a bit boring to read.  
Wanna know what you think, reviews are very welcome! And thanks for reading.  
**

 **btw, the song is "Her name is Alice" by _Shine Down_ (I will write the names every time if you want)**


	2. Chapter 2

**2nd chapter is here. Thanks for reading the previous and I hope you'll like this one ;)**

 **Chapter 2**

" _Mirror, mirror  
It is time to speak"_

* * *

Time ticked past.

Away.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock…

"Tick-tock, ticky-tock, tocky-tick tock…"

He'd been walking in circles for the past… hours. The room didn't have a clock, he had to imagine it. His whispers had to fill its silence with sound, to create an illusion.

Clocks meant life, civilization.

He felt abandoned. Even though he could hear weird noises somewhere below his cell. His den.

How many seconds had elapsed already? This was a daily question. He would always ask it that white girl. But she seemed to have disappeared. He didn't even ask her name, although she had been keeping an eye on him for nearly a month and he had so many chances. Instead, he used to talk about art and feel almost happy because she would look genuinely interested, unlike others before her. That girl was a bit different. Caring.

That girl was gone.

Hatter sighed, stopped for a moment. Then continued marching, this time – backwards.

They all would vanish from sight eventually, sooner or later. Well, usually sooner. No-one would tell him where. Or why.

 _You shouldn't worry about that_ – was all he managed to extract after countless times of inquiring. Of course, like every other single sentence this one was said in the same smooth-tongued, factitious tone. As if they didn't know there were many various ways of pronouncing words.

What was this place anyway?

Number of strange nights Hatter had spent there and not even once had he seen any other unfortunate dribbling down the corridor, meandering around the garden or dully staring out the window. Only ever-bustling people in white, mostly women. And despite all that, man could still hear noises, distant whispers, creaking of stairs. And he knew it wasn't the whites' doing.

White. Why white? Why couldn't they wear black? Why couldn't they wear thousands of colourful clothes?

They wore white…

He didn't. And he was proud of it. He was something else, some different species.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock," he murmured frantically, willing to protect himself from the unpleasant, intimidating thoughts and questions which, he knew, were coming back again.

Why was he here? How did he come here? What was that odd feeling of insecurity that would never go away since he… Since he what?

"No, no, no, no, no… It's not real," Hatter wagged his hands, his voice quiet as ever. "I'm real and this is not… It's not…"

Déjà vu.

"I'm not crazy," he said in unexpectedly calm tone, suddenly stopping short. "I'm not."

He was about to spin on his heel elegantly, but instead man lost his balance, foot tripped over the bump on the carpet and he flattened on his back. It didn't actually hurt so he stayed as he was, gazing at the ceiling, unable to resist the flood of dusty rusty memories. It washed him away…

… _Painfully azure sky when they found him. Muddy waters of the stream where he has been lying. It is… early spring? Something like that. Faces hovering, floating overhead, bright light stabbing his eyes. All he can feel is the contractions of his stomach. Hunger. It makes everything look obscure, surreal even. And he's thirsty, badly, despite resting in the middle of the brook…_

Flashback faded as surprisingly as it emerged. Hatter slowly blinked few times. That was probably one stupid dream he kept remembering. He hoped so.

Some stealthy creaky footsteps were heard. A key turned in an old-fashioned lock on the other side. Door opened and the man threw his head back as best he could to see a visitor. It was this new white girl. Young red-head with a distant look on her face, daily uniform seemed quite too big for her. She didn't feel good in it: the top was carefully buttoned up almost up to her neck, using safety-pins when there were no more buttons, her hands were gripping white skirt as if in fear it was too short. She always looked nervous and anxious. He wasn't sure why.

"Can I go outside now?"

His supervisor frowned, scanning him.

"N-no."

"Why?"

"You know why, mister Hatter. You should stop fooling around and think about your welfare."

Hatter didn't reply, setting his eyes on a small window above. The sky was light grey. Cloudy. Coincidence? No. Coincidences did not exist in this world. In their world, which was so different compared to the one he came from. They wouldn't let him make a call (he knew no number he could dial, they didn't know that and still…). They wouldn't let him take a shower and ordered to have a bath (that scared him a little) instead. Time and time again he had grizzled scrounging for mp3, iPod, phone or whatever device he could use to listen to music of any sort, instead, they only gave him a clockwork music box once with a single classical melody repeating itself over and over, and over again. It wasn't even enjoyable…

"Mister Hatter," white-dressed girl was still standing in the doorway like every other before her.

"How old are you?"

"You're not getting any medicine today," she smoothed the unwrinkled skirt.

"Where's my previous… eh…"

"If everything goes right, you might be able to go outside later," it seemed girl didn't care about his questions, as if she couldn't hear them.

Giving her a wistful smile, man traced his eyes over the room. He might as well ignore her words. She was just doing her job, though. Even the white ones were being monitored by some higher forces. By… who?

For some reason his warden wouldn't leave him alone. It felt suspicious, it was unusual.

"What is it?"

"Keep acting like that and you can forget about the garden."

Was that a threat? A warning? But everything was all the same to him.

"Why should I want to go there?" Hatter pulled a wry face. "Won't see anything new there, you know. Yes, you do know. There's no point. You should just open the window so I can get some fresh air. That's all I want."

"But you…"

"I asked if I could go, never said I wanted to," he sighed. People. They used to be… different. Better. What happened to humanity he used to know?

He didn't look that way, but he understood that she left. Moments later the door was locked and he was again alone with his thoughts and musings. And fears. And everything else.

"No meds, huh?" muttered under his nose. "Trap?"

By the front wall there stood a massive desk. Antique, judging by all the ornaments and build. Hatter finally climbed back to his feet, then, scrambled on the table, almost knocking some covered item down. On tip toes, man tried to spy any traces of that lonely garden with a single bush of white roses. Only tree-tops came into view, the window was too high. It had no handle, but at least there were no bars either. With another sigh Hatter sat down cross-legged where he stood. Supported his head. Eyes kept returning to that object he grazed before. It's been there since he moved in, so to say, yet, he had never wished to see what was hiding behind what looked like a really aged hempen potato sack. Until today.

Today that thing felt like a living magnet of some uncertain sort. He had to know what it was.

Hatter watched his own hand reaching out forward, grabbing the cover, pulling it away. The mysterious thing was a simple oval mirror with a silvery setting. Sort of disappointing. Man looked at his reflection for a while, studying the features. Hatless, his dark orange hair was sticking right and left, protrusive jaw was clearly visible due to pale face. A strange pattern of freckles on his cheeks…

Suddenly his mirror-image questioningly tilted its head to side. Hatter flinched, barely refraining himself from recoiling backwards. _What the…_ He stared at the anomaly for the first time experiencing enormous emptiness and complete silence in his normally rattling head. He didn't think, he couldn't think, he just stared.

Reflex raised its eyebrows as if asking what was wrong: his face was evidently full of emotions, an open book any nitwit could read. At this realization Hatter's forehead wrinkled. Girl said there would be no medications today. But what about drugs in food (if there were any)? That wasn't mentioned. Were they testing him? Was that but a hallucination?

"So you're just gonna gape there or will you say something, brother?"

Man could have tried and managed to explain the movements of his mirror-self but no more. How on earth was that thing able to… talk? It must have been hallucination or a dream he couldn't wake up from. Those would make everything seem possible…

"Okay," reflection rolled its greenish eyes. "I'll just introduce myself then. Name is Mad," and it extended a hand to greet him.

It took Hatter some time to perceive all. He slowly repeated mirror's movements. No matter how you look at it, it's impolite to ignore a greeting, it's rude to ignore. Even if that is a talking looking-glass in your hallucination. His fingers bumped into a cold glassy surface.

"I'm," man forced out eventually, withdrawing his hand. "I am Hatter."

Mad nodded, giving a brief cocky smile.

"I know that, brother."

* * *

 **It's another shorty, but I guess short chaps fit this story somewhat. Like it, hate it? Please review ^^**

 **and quote is from a poem I don't remember...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Back with another chapter :)**

 **Chapter 3**

" _Illusions are a common thing,_

 _I try to live in dreams."_

* * *

After the incident with a silvery mirror, garden by the red-brick mansion became a forbidden place for almost a week. It took Hatter a long time to convince white girl that it was only a temporary reaction to the absence of medicaments. To convince, that he was getting dependent on it. Few times he was even begging her for medicine, which he later pulverized and tipped into the corner where cleaning lady couldn't find it.

And all the while Hatter wouldn't stop skewing at the mirror. He covered it right after his supervisor had caught him arguing with it about the weather. Man couldn't force himself to look at it properly since then. He was ready to believe that everything what had happened was indeed due to the lack of pills; he wouldn't drink them unless white people were watching him closely, and even if he would, it never made any difference to the way he usually felt.

When after some time he was done assuring himself and his nervous nurse-guard of the absurdity he foolishly got himself into, Hatter decided to prove he was not mistaken (whatever he did, he always used to have doubts about everything and everyone). Man lifted the cloth and cast a glance at the mirror. To his great relief, there was only a normal view reflecting on it. Overwhelmed by this discovery, orange-haired one sighed inwardly. _I was right. Of course I was._ But he couldn't resolve to leave the looking-glass uncovered as if everything was okay. Never-ending doubts wouldn't let him; and so he shielded it.

Giving a light stiff chuckle of ease, Hatter fell on his bed. Its hardness and discomfort were surprising as ever. It was quite wide and made of beautifully carved dark wood, the problem was its mattress, pillow and blanket (which was occasionally missing). Stuffed with straw and something else (probably buckwheat) it made it impossible to get a good night sleep. And that was why he had those terrible dark circles around his sunken eyes. When a bed felt unbearable, man used to sleep on the carpet, shocking the white ones. Today was no different, although he managed to land without hitting anything hard inside the mattress.

Feeling of insecurity. Feeling of being constantly watched. Was that all but a fruit of imagination and refusal to take daily meds? He didn't have time to ponder about it.

Door opened. He didn't even catch the sound of lock being unlocked.

"What does a man have to do to get a window opened?" Hatter slammed his fists against the bed a couple of times in a mock rage.

"Please act more mature, mister Hatter."

Jittery, serious girl was looking at him with reproach. As if he was embarrassing her.

"Oh come on…" rolled his orbs while sitting up. "Try spending time here, you'll get bored in a… clink of an eye… I mean blink…" man suddenly fell silent and gaped at the space.

"Is everything okay?"

Girl didn't move, hesitant to react to any changes in his behavior. Only her forehead wrinkled a little when she tugged her skirt down, worried it showed too much of her legs.

"Mister Hatter?" some note appeared in her tone.

"Ah, yes yes, I'm listening," Hatter tilted his head, caught her glance, paused. "Can you hear it? Birds chirping outside, wind ruffling the grass and shaking the leaves, water rippling…"

"No, I don't h…"

"Well neither do I!"

He glared at the white one. How could she not understand he just wanted to get out?

"Um, well, actually," girl bit her lip. "I came to tell you that you're allowed to go to the garden today."

"Oh."

The moment man heard the news, he jumped to his feet all bright and full of energy again.

"You should've said so earlier… eh… nurse!"

"Are you sure you're alright?" she seemed suspicious. He didn't blame her for that. He wouldn't trust himself either. Nodded.

Garden was just the way he left it. Blooming, fragrant and green. Hatter settled in his usual spot – half-stuck in the hedge. Everything was seen as if on his palm. He submerged in observation.

No random unnecessary things scattered around. No cat hunting his hat. No dubious rabbits. Same or perhaps higher number of buds on rose bushes. And distinctly decreased amount of white workers dragging their feet from one side of the garden to another. Lightly darkening sky, clouds gathering for a drizzle. Gusts of wind scouring precisely cut lawn.

He wanted to hear birds, because their songs couldn't reach him up in the attic. They were the only living creatures besides the whites and the black cat that emanated sounds. He wanted to hear water gurgling in a little fountain. Or stream. Water… His escape approached.

… _He lies in a brook, breathing is hard, hunger and thirst are impossible. He is too weak to move onto his side for a sip. And also afraid he might not be able to come back to previous position. So he bears and observes. Tries to remember why and what he's doing in such place. In the middle of nowhere. Away from civilization._

 _A face. It flitted across his eyes. Like a foreign memory. Was that a girl? Or just another bold rabbit leaping over his head? He doesn't know. Sun rays hurt his eyes. Darkness seems orange whenever he closes them._

 _How did he end up here? He moves his arm carefully and groans without a sound. The last thing he recalls is getting out of the car and heading towards some forest for a walk. Just like every other morning of his life._

 _He wants some inspiration for…_

Familiar gentle sound. It brought the man back from his broodings. He wasn't very happy about that, for he was beginning to enjoy it. But the sound, a long-heard voice outweighed it all.

Blue. Green. White. Grey. Brown. Patches. Time seemed to have lost its track as Hatter strove to focus his glance. Soon enough his eyes settled on one concrete thing – oddly shaped white cloud. Blinked. Man then slowly closed his mouth, he had no idea when he had opened it.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Again that voice. Caring and different. He felt dizzy with emotion. Wagged his head. Unwillingly led his eyes to a person in white who was right in front of him. Green orbs widened. There was no mistaking it. Her. Hatter stared at the girl, she probably noticed a shadow of recognition on his face.

The one he assumed was most likely dead leaned over to him, saying something but he let it slip his ears. Hatter slowly ran his confused orbs over her: simple sandals, thin legs, white knee-reaching skirt, white short-sleeved T-shirt with 'V' shaped neckline, long chocolate hair falling on both sides of her face. She looked tired as she stretched out her hand at first checking his forehead, then briefly stroking his cheek and finally straightening up a bit, waiting to help him to his feet.

Hatter examined girl's palm. Her hand was sun-burnt, skin was weather-beaten and covered in sores. It didn't remind those smooth, flawless hands he was used to see at all. But he took it.

"So…" man tilted his head still not getting up. "I'm not hallucinating, huh…"

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

She pulled him up a little and he stood up clumsily. From up close he noticed that her grey eyes were bloodshot. That made him wonder.

"They took away my meds so I've been seeing things lately." Hatter said as if it was perfectly fine.

"Poor thing, but did you tell your chaperon? I'm sure she'll help you if you ask nicely."

Worry. He saw a shadow of it crossing her face. Made a grimace.

"Oh I've been telling her that since the first day. She's ignoring me all the time… and I need those meds," muttered in complaint.

"That's weird to hear from you, mister Hatter. I don't remember you actually taking any on my watch."

"Just because I act doesn't mean I don't…"

And he got distracted by the surroundings heavily moving past him. It took some time to realize they were walking. Further ahead there was an old surprisingly not white wooden bench. They sat on it. After a while Hatter seized her hand and peered at its flesh-wounds, thinking.

"Where did you disappear?" finally inquired what was bothering him.

"I didn't. They wanted me to do something," she smiled.

"Is that why your hands…?"

Girl nodded, her expression aloof, almost melancholy. Deep in his thoughts, orange-headed one searched his dark brown jacket's inner pockets. His fingers wrapped around a small vial, then showed it to her.

"Her, it's rose oil, will help your skin to heal somewhat."

"Rose oil?" her eyes widened. "Isn't that expensive? Where did you get it?"

"Made myself," he shrugged. "From roses and oil. Greasy job."

"And where did you get oil?" frowning she traced her glance from him to the bottle and backwards in disbelief.

He didn't answer, chewed his lip.

"Mister?"

"Stole a bottle from the kitchen," murmured quietly.

She met it with silence.

"M… are you a herbalist or something?" questioned the girl after a pause.

"Who? I mean… I just didn't have anything to do so… If you give me bandage I'll take care of your hands."

"I don't have any. At all," she shook her head. "Though we can use hmm my skirt."

"Eh…"

But medicine-girl was already tearing off thin stripes, shortening her uniform to mid-thighs long. She clearly valued her hands more than that thing. He watched amazed, unsure how to react.

"It will do for now."

After that she let him oil her palms and awkwardly swathe them. He wasn't just an ordinary patient. He was slightly different. They sat in silence, both deliberating of something.

"Change it twice a day." Hatter uttered when all was finished.

He gave rose oil to the girl, promising to make more if need be. Noticed that white ones bestirred around the garden, she noticed it too and stood up to go. Hatter lifted his head as she walked past him.

"Um, what's your name?"

Girl halted, turned back. It seemed she was hesitant.

"I'm… Anna. And you?"

"Hatter. Just Hatter, I guess," a corner of his lip rose up a bit.

"I'll see what I can do about your meds, okay?" giving her usual too happy smile girl trotted towards the mansion.

Hatter fixed his orbs on roses in front of him.

"Anna." mumbled. "That's a nice name. Or is it not…?"

* * *

 **Uff turns out it's a bit more difficult to get into Hatter's head than previously thought lol**

 **Hope you enjoyed it ^^**


	4. Chapter 4

**Next chapter is here, sorry it took so long, I barely have time for writing now :|**

 **Well, I hope it was worth waiting, enjoy**

 **Chapter 4**

" _I wanted more than anything  
to make a dream and give it to her"_

* * *

A person whom everybody called Hatter didn't hear from Anna since their encounter. He wasn't surprised nor was he disappointed. That was exactly how all the promises worked here. Their promises. He kept his own despite that.

Hatter took out a small vial from the only and unstable wardrobe in the room. Vial was filled with oil and red rose petals. He unscrewed it, smelled its content.

"Neh… still not it," grumbled to himself.

He fished out the petals, carefully squeezing off the oil from them back into the phial. Then he plucked the petals from one of the blooms he stole from the garden yesterday and shoved them all into the rose oil container.

"One more day in darkness, little one," man put it back on the wardrobe shelf.

After that he grabbed another bottle and repeated his daily routine. It was sort of soothing, helped to forget himself a bit. The third and two more bottles followed. Attic room filled up with greasy remains of what were previously roses. It had a faint smell, still too faint for him.

With every day passing this job has become easier and faster to finish. Hatter swept up the litter into an ordered pile on the table and cleaned his hands using his sleeping sheet. Today was sunny, but he didn't hold hope for much to happen.

His roaming gaze tarried over the mysterious mirror. Man had been successfully avoiding it for the past days.

"It's just a stupid mirror," whispered.

It was silly to believe that it could talk and otherwise act non-mirror-like. But he always had this exceedingly vivid imagination, which would be extremely helpful in his job. A job as a… someone… He couldn't remember it clearly, but it had something to do with colours. " _I must have been talking to myself_." thought Hatter. He used to do that quite often for there will never be a better listener and adviser than yourself. " _You're no genius if you don't do that once in a while_ ," he continued examining his idea, at the same time searching the hempen rag on the mirror. " _Einstein, the other guy… all crackers. And an old weirdo Newton… Not everyone becomes famous after_ getting _hit with a banana, a round and hard banana_ …" frowned. " _Apple, you idiot, there are no round bananas in Britain… or… are there?_ "

Scratching his curly head, Hatter looked around for the hat (he would feel a bit exposed without it). Noticed a threadbare reddish end of the ribbon protruding from under the bed. He groped and gave it a pull. Dark cylinder came out rolling. Something was missing. A card. He found a ten of diamonds in one of his many pockets, withdraw two pins from his jacket's sleeve and attached a missing piece to the hat (not his lovely 10/6 card, but still better than none). Put it on and tipped it to the side lightly.

"Come confidence, we'll do this again," took a deep breath of air.

Hatter removed the cover, squinted while fixedly staring at his image. For a few peaceful and golden moments everything was blissfully normal. And then the reflection grinned, mischievous flames dancing in its glassy eyes. Man slowly sent the hands to his face to check if, hopefully, he was really smiling. Sadly, the position of his lips said he was most likely depressed or indifferent. " _Damn it…_ "

This couldn't be happening again. Was he dreaming? If so, now would be the best time to wake up. But he didn't.

"Not happy to see me, are we?" Mad's eyes flashed.

"W-why ask if you already know my answer?"

"Because I can."

Its tone was gruff, superior and sneering. Almost craving to hurt the collocutor, show him his place.

"What took you so long? You think it's fun to gawk at that thing?"

"Rag."

"What?"

"To gawk at that rag," grumbled Hatter.

"Who cares about that stupid rag?!" Mad bellowed out, casting bolts with his eyes.

There were some changes in them. Something… He squinted even more, his own orbs turning into tiny slits. It was the colour that stood out.

"Why are your eyes orange?" he asked the reflection with a grain of niggle in his voice.

"Because. I'm. Angry. You. Moron."

"I'm Hatter, not moron."

"You're both, can't you tell?"

"Better to ask what are **you**?" Hatter just didn't know how to deal with it, it was throwing him off his little balance.

"You're calling me 'it'? I'm a person, you dimwit! And I'm not telling you **who** I am."

"Soo… you're not hallucination or something?"

On the other side of the mirror Mad clutched its head, growling and emitting inapprehensible, unarticulated sounds. It was an awkward show to watch. " _Do I really look like that when I'm angry?_ " Hatter observed the other him. Silly weird expressions. But it all ended as suddenly as it had begun.

"I'm a person, not some dream, illusion or hallucination," the orbs were still bright orange, matching its eyebrows and hair.

"Prove it."

To think he was chatting with a piece of glass. Again. Let alone, demanding evidence from it… It was probably a start of farewell to his sanity. " _Bye bye, dear mind, though I truly believed you'll stay by my side a bit longer._ " he sighed mentally. He had a hunch that the red mansion wasn't just a simple mansion with dozens of servants-guards-workers. It didn't feel like an ordinary hospital either, though. Asylum? He shuddered at the mere thought about it being true. But if so… Did that mean mass psychosis finally got to him? Shaking it off, man cast another glance at the source of madness.

Orange was subsiding from Mad's irises bit by bit, painting them with some incomplete mixture of greenish and yellowish colours. It didn't look very good. Hatter had to admit that orange actually went fine with the hair and bushy eyebrows. Though his aesthetic inner self hemmed there was too much of that tint for one mediocre head. Idea sneaked in. He wanted to get furious to see if his eyes can change their shade. But only wishing and seeing were the easy parts, no matter what, he couldn't get purely angry at all: sadness, grief, happiness, shyness, insanity, laziness, annoyance and fear – those were emotions he was able to express flawlessly, others were difficult to grasp. And he doubted he ever got to taste rage.

"Hnn… You already proved to yourself it's not an illusion by trying to shake my hand, I didn't blur. Pinch yourself to wake up from this 'dream' and as for hallucination…"

"Yes?"

"It's impossible, of course! I can find some ways to convince you, but you will always say that hallucinations get their inspirational material from your own head, so it's pointless even. Don't you agree?"

"Maybe…"

"What are you thinking now?" Mad's orbs were glaring daggers at him, two distrustful shiny buttons deep in its face.

Hatter thought for a moment before uttering.

"Let's say I believe it, so what? How can you prove you're a person if you can't shake hands with another person? It's honestly bothering me. I need answers, tangible proof."

Ringing silence. Perhaps Mad tried to compose something convincing. Not for long. A sly smile appeared on reflection's face as it looked at something behind him. Smile grew wider.

"Why don't we ask her?" and with that his reflex stiffened, staring right at him, fog and questions marking its expression. Just like his.

Slowly Hatter angled towards the door, moving an inch at the time. And there she stood. With a new set of bed sheets in her hands, waiting.

"I was… just… philosophizing… loud…"

For some reason he started by explaining himself; he didn't know how long she's been standing there. And to add to all this confusion, she was the last person he expected to see.

Anna smiled leniently, as if saying "of course you were" but actually not buying a word of it. Feeling restless and a bit paranoid, man rubbed his suddenly dewy forehead.

"Where is…" he realized he didn't know how to call that nervous girl, it was disturbing. "Where is the red-head?"

"I was allowed to take care of you."

A smile again. Simple and kind of friendly. But she clearly misunderstood his puzzlement, mistaking it for displeasure. She didn't budge from the doorway, hesitating.

"Is… that okay, mister Hatter? I thought you'd be happy," searching look on her face.

"Happy."

Hatter repeated, tasting the sound of the word. The taste was weird. Intimidating. Cause once you feel the real sheer happiness, you're afraid to lose it. He shook his curly head, his hat tipped onto his eyes.

"I'm just… stunned," a light chuckle should have followed this sentence, but man couldn't remember himself laughing. Well, except for crazy moments. Very crazy. Other than that, he didn't know how to laugh anymore. "And… don't call me 'mister', it's annoying," he turned away his orbs.

The girl nodded faintly and made first steps into the forgotten attic room.

"I noticed you dislike the sound of it, but I wasn't sure."

He said nothing in return. She placed the bedding on a chair. For a moment it seemed that his sudden wave of sadness reached her as well. Or not. She was better at concealing her emotions. A lot better. Almost perfect at it.

"I got something for you," Anna tried to get him talking and reacting to the world. In vain. Man wasn't going to snap out of it any time soon. "Here."

She handed him a few white pills, her palms still wrapped up in improvised bandages, they gave a light, barely catchable scent of roses. In a fog Hatter looked at her hand, at her.

"You said you needed it."

Right. He told her that one lie. Why? Did he miss her so much he had to find a way to make her come back? It didn't feel like that… Hatter took the pills and swallowed them. There was no better option anyways, besides, for the first time he actually **wanted** to drink it.

"Thanks," muttered, giving in to the siege of melancholy; thick, solid walls were isolating him from everything else. It was draining him, his vitality.

Changes in his expression or behaviour would never escape Anna's eyes. She put her slim bandaged hand on his shoulder, removing his cylinder with another. She let herself approach and violate his personal space, and he let her do that; something he could never understand.

"About earlier," girl was still exploring one of those few things he owned. "Were you hallucinating?"

Her speaking manner same as always – calm, not too loud, soothing. Prompting one to trust and listen to her. _I should tell her something, it's impolite…_ But he didn't open his mouth, aimlessly staring at one spot somewhere in front of him (not the mirror, he tried to avoid it).

"It's okay, you can tell me," she was persistent, and as never before – quite irritating.

He shook off his dark jacket, tossing it on the same chair that was occupied by bedclothes.

"I'm tired." sputtered mutely.

And he was. Hatter shambled towards the bed, sprawled on it on his back with his hands under his head for a pillow and closed his eyes. Since when talking to himself became so wearisome? Gradually his mind slipped into some cotton-like state. Sounds from that other world (perhaps Anna was asking him something) formed and melted in its fluffiness. And very soon all the everyday little things were peacefully stolen away.

Xxx

"… _TV is on. It's a regular worthless evening show and he doesn't pay attention to it at all. He's drowning in his thoughts, mostly about his family. Especially about her. Not for the first time doubts and anxiety concerning her come. Is she gonna be alright like that? She still can't comprehend what happened, she's only four after all, though sometimes she talks and acts like a grown-up. It always confuses him… She hasn't cried once ever since…_

 _A plaintive wail floated down from upstairs and some dead thud followed. Wooden walls were like paper – every sound felt as if it was released right beside you._

" _Annie?" he slightly lifts in the armchair._

 _But the house is quiet again. Worry creeps in. Something's odd, he doesn't know why, but his gut feeling whispers that. He jumps to his feet and races up the stairs, troubling not to create any more noise. For a brief second stops beside her room, opens the door._

 _And there she is. Kneeling on the floor, shivering, tears streaming down her cheeks like two miniature waterfalls. Her body looks so fragile in that green dress._

" _Oh Anna," he sighs woefully, sits down cross-legged, scoops the girl in his arms and lets her sob into his chest, while holding her tight._

 _He doesn't ask a thing, just strokes her hair from time to time and gently rocks her. Can it be that it all finally erupted? She's weeping, tears seem to have no end._

" _H-he's gone…" girl firmly grips his shirt. "Hatter is… gone…" wail convulses her elfin body. "He said h-he won't come again…"_

 _Hatter is (was?) her imaginary friend. As far as he could remember, Anna would always chatter about him. This friend was the reason she could bear the catastrophe. Her mom – his sister- and dad died in a car accident 3 months ago, he's been taking care of their child since then, the two of them grew closer than ever before. And now her friend, her strength is gone…_

 _Her lip is trembling, snivel emerges from her nose. Helpless look on her face painfully squeezes his heart, pierces it. At that moment he is ready to do anything just to see her smile again._

" _It's okay, sweetie, it's okay," whispers. "I will be your Hatter. Okay?"_

 _Anna looks at him with gullible eyes full of pain, and he knows what he's going to do next. She tighter snuggles against him, her doll-like body flinches in his arms as she struggles to suppress a cry…"_

Xxx

"ANNA!"

Hatter sat up in his bed with a yell on his thin lips. A dream or whatever it was chained his mind, everything seemed so real.

"I'm here," someone responded gently.

He fastened his orbs on the girl nearby. Unblinking, he traced his look around the room. It wasn't right. Everything was wrong. Man shot a frantic glance at the girl again.

"Mi… Hatter, what's wrong?" she asked. Noticing a lack of recognition in his expression, added. "It's me, Anna."

"You're not my Anna," the answer felt so distant, as though it wasn't him who said it.

Some unfamiliar emotion flashed across her face.

"But I…" and she trailed off in mid sentence.

Girl was about to say 'But I am your Anna.' But those two words were enough to make him get back to his self. Hatter blinked and ran a hand over his face. What was that… vision?

* * *

 **There, thanks for reading ^_^ Don't have a slightest idea when the next chap will appear though...**

 **Reviews are very welcome**

 **And the quote is from a book "Psyche in a dress"**


	5. Chapter 5

**Superrrrr sloooow update has arrived!**

 **Chapter 5**

" _You hold the answers deep within your own mind.  
Consciously, you've forgotten it."_

* * *

"Because I know everything."

"How come?"

"Hmm… Because I'm a person."

"No you're not," Hatter lifted an eyebrow at his reflection. "Anna can't see you, and people are visible to everyone."

They both remembered yesterday's scene: Anna pauses and looks at the mirror in which Mad is making faces and clowning around, but she doesn't see it.

"Fine, fine… What would be easier for you to understand?"

For a moment the room dived into silence. It was a cosy one, like a pause in a conversation that doesn't require to be filled. Ever since that dream something had changed, Mad became more manageable and Hatter no longer feared to glance at the mirror. He found a companion that wasn't white on the other side of that thing.

"How are things with your imagination?" asked Mad after a while.

"Why?"

"Just answer."

"It's working too good…" he was still convinced it was imagination's fault the mirror started talking, but it wasn't troubling him as much as before.

"Perfect, it'll be easy then. Imagine I'm your subconscious."

Hatter stared at this 'subconscious'. On which part of the world that could be easy?

"What?"

"What's what?" Mad gave him a disappointed glance. "It would explain why I know so much, right? Think about it. Subconscious registers everything what's happening around you. And your stupid brain only remembers a tiny bit of it."

"Hmmm… I suppose that might make some sense…"

Man didn't know a lot about brain stuff, he was surprised his reflection did. The world was a weird place, of that he was sure. For the time being he could go with whatever it said. As long as it was reasonable.

"Okay, I think I can give it a shot, but don't expect much from me," he sighed capitulating.

Steps creaked on the stairs. A latent sign to end the conversation.

"She's not **that** Anna, you know." Mad jabbered before freezing still.

Those words echoed in his head for a moment unable to hit their equivalent nor a place to fit in. It dawned on him suddenly, reflection meant Anna from his dream: little girl grieving her imaginary friend. He tried to find something, anything similar in the way both -this and that- Anna looked, spoke, acted. But except for grey eyes and dark hair he couldn't distinguish anything else. What was his relationship with her anyway?

x x x

Door opened. She came in. Was she surprised he wasn't talking to himself and simply sitting on a chair like all the normal people do? No. Hatter followed her look. Ah, she noticed clean bed-sheets having a tedious time on another chair – she forgot to make up the bed. There were very little things she would forget, and this wasn't one of them.

"Morning," today he greeted her first. He was suddenly in a good mood.

"M-morning," she replied with an obvious note of hesitation.

And that was it. Silence enwrapped the attic room, leaving them both speechless. Something was changing, Hatter could feel it. But he didn't know whether he liked it or not. This world was confusing, he noticed for the second and probably not the last time today.

"Can I go home?" he asked only to ask anything.

Anna closed the door behind her, she would never lock it, she wasn't paranoid about him dashing out the moment she looked away, unlike so many others.

"And where is your home?" when he shrugged, girl added in a sympathetic voice. "W… They can't just let you out and leave you wandering around on your own. What if you get hurt, lost or, by any chance, start terrorizing locals? I know you wouldn't but my word has very little meaning here, if any."

"But if I were to remember, they couldn't stop me, right?"

She gave a sad smile.

"I'm afraid no one cares about that. Nobody leaves here once they come, not even workers."

"There's always a way out, just sometimes you can't see it clearly…"

"Are you..?"

Hatter tilted his head, his mind drifting in the labyrinths of memory. It kept coming back to that small girl. Tiny, helpless, wailing girl, she was… special to him, for some reason.

"Do you dream?" Hatter shot a question after another moment of enchaining silence.

Anna searched his face, probably thinking where the catch was. He didn't know it, but his face was like an open book, everything he felt or thought about reflected on it. As if it was written in actual words. A bit messy, yet readable words.

"No," she said in somewhat preoccupied manner. "Or maybe I just don't remember. And do you?"

But the only answer she got in return was his rapid, rambling murmur that kept trailing off, turning into an inaudible babble.

"Talking rabbits chessmen chess… smiling catsweirdos rosesforestmushroomslittlepeople…"

His head jerked up suddenly, probably in notice of silence. Man blinked, licked his upper lip and stared at her white clothes for a while.

"I… dream a girl. Her name is Anna, like yours," mumbled softly. "She's sad, very sad… I want tea, do we have tea?"

"What's her story?"

"Tea's?" he frowned distrustfully.

"No, silly," light chuckle. "Do you know why she's sad?"

Fixing his lost, nonplussed eyes with a hidden insensible question behind green irises on her face, Hatter thought for a brief minute.

"Do we have tea? I think she'd like to have a tea party…" he winced, looked around. "How are your hands?"

Girl squirmed feeling uncomfortable. She's never seen him like that: he seemed like every other day, a little bit off and dreamy, except, he kept losing the track of conversation. Or rather to say, didn't even bother to follow it.

"They're better, thank you."

He nodded at her smile and she couldn't help but ask.

"Is everything okay?"

"Must have taken too much medicine," a shadow of a smile ran over his lips.

"Impossible, you don't even take it!"

"Ah, this time I did, for a change," man blinked a few times, not without an effort. "They're finally kicking in… I don't like it."

Anna noticed that his pupils were quite dilated. Was it supposed to be this way? She didn't know. It wasn't her job to know.

"Come," she stretched out her hands to him. "You should lie down."

"I don't want to dream. She's so sad…"

"Then make her happy, everything is possible in a dream."

"It is?"

Hatter stood up and his supervisor gave him a gentle push towards the bed. Watched her yawning and covering her mouth. Tilted his head.

"You need to rest as well. I'd offer you my bed but carpet usually is way more comfortable."

"I… It's okay, just sleep," her next light nudge caused him to trip and fall. Face down on a rough pillow.

He rolled over till his back felt a firm solid surface of the wall, supported his head with his hand and continued observing the young woman. She frowned at him and sat down where he was sitting moments ago.

"What time is it?"

"Why?"

"I want tea at four," with that said Hatter turned away, pretending to fall asleep until he actually did.

X X X

"… _It's cloudy, the air smells of rain as they silently walk across the park. Her tiny hand rests in his palm. Man looks down, her feet, hidden in gumboots with bright oranges, are_ _sloshing over the puddles right beside him. Except for the boots she wears black: jeans, blouse and anorak, even her socks are black. It's always black and orange, she refuses to wear any other colour. Probably because these two reminds her of her friend._

" _You look like him," she says in her childish voice. "A lot."_

 _The Hatter. He's kept his promise, and he didn't mind looking eccentric if that made her feel better._

" _Because I am him. Remember? I'm Hatter now," he gives a kid the happiest smile he can manage._

 _Anna purses her lips_ _throwing back her head to see his face. She doesn't seem to believe it, but he knows that she's trying, sometimes he notices small sparkles in her eyes..._

" _But you're not_ _ **my**_ _Hatter."_

… _although sometimes she tells him this. His eyes clouds with sadness and man trains them on a path ahead. The sky_ _sends a bunch of droplets. It's mizzling faintly._

" _I am, Annie. Whose else Hatter could I be? Other people don't have any idea of who I am," he sighs. People would actually pretend not to see him when the two of them set out for a walk. Like this lady who rushes past them. Staring is rude, but ignoring isn't very nice either…_

 _Someone's tugging at his sleeve. Anna saw a bench and obviously wants to rest. Forty three. That's how many step she has just made to reach it. Her small feet continue to move even when she finally settles on a wooden surface, it's a bit damp but girl seems satisfied. He decides not to sit and instead towers beside her with a big orange umbrella in one hand._

" _Do you know any new riddles?" grey eyes meet green ones._

 _New ones? Man assumes Hatter used to_ _tell her all kinds of riddles everyday. He recalls that before all what happened months ago, the kid would ask him to guess what this or that jumble of words means, he never understood why she knew so much._

 _Right now Anna watches him curiously, waiting for him to say something. But he doesn't know any riddles, let alone new ones. So he just turns away his orbs, seeking help in nature around them. It stops raining, but he still holds the umbrella. Suddenly man flinches as a cawing raven flies over to another tree in the distance. Raven. His brain starts working, its work so erratic it is hard to follow... After a long silence he finally opens his mouth._

" _Why is a raven like a…" his mind fails to prompt him the correct word. Like what? He glances down and sees her hopeful eyes. He'll shoot the first thing that comes to his head, even if it's nonsense. "Why is a raven like a… writing desk?"_

" _It's not!" Anna pouts, clearly dissatisfied with his masterpiece._

" _It is, Annie," and he doesn't need to struggle anymore, he knows exactly what to say. "This riddle has many answers. Which one will you choose?"_

" _I don't know. You answer," she looks a bit interested, she always does when she can ask questions._

" _Hmm, alright. I'll start with the simplest. They both are black, don't you agree?"_

 _Anna frowns._

" _I've never seen a black desk."_

" _Well, you'll start going to school soon, I guess we can order you black one," he smiles at her, she smiles back._

" _Why else is raven like a writing desk?"_

" _You can ask me that every day and each day I will give you one answer only. It might even take 365 days to know the full answer of this riddle," it's not likely it'll take that long, he'll probably run out of ideas in a week or so, but he's going to try._

" _Is that a lot?"_

" _That's how many days_ one _year has, sweety.""_

X X X

Hatter opened his eyes, he didn't hear a sound but could feel his lips moving, forming words. Blinked few times, squeezing his eyes shut so hard that he could see colourful dots dancing in the black under the eyelids.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" man mumbled while sitting up. _Who could possibly come up with such question? Oh… wait, I think it was me._

From his bed he swept the room. Anna was asleep in a chair, her head lying on her hands on a table. It seemed as if she had drifted away while in the middle of watching him. He didn't like being watched, he wasn't an exhibit. As quietly as he managed, Hatter got off his bed and crept towards the girl. Her sleep was somewhat restless, she emitted a sound similar to some word, but it was too indistinct to recognize. He squatted down opposite to her and observed her changing face for a while. Then gently shook her by the shoulder.

"Ann," called impatiently. "Anna."

The girl grunted in her sleep, even if it seemed troubled, she definitely needed it. But he just kept shaking and poking her from time to time until she slightly opened her eyes. They were pretty. And bleary.

"Why is raven like a writing desk?" he asked the question that was bothering him for some reason. Perhaps he was hoping she will know the answer.

"Because the…" Anna fell silent and straightened up. "What?"

"Why is raven like a writing desk?" repeating the words made him realize what a weird and yet nice sound they gave.

Frowning Anna cast him a somewhat mistrustful glance.

"I don't know… Why do you even ask something like that?"

"It's a riddle," smiled Hatter.

"And what is the solution?"

He shrugged and smiled wider, baring his teeth.

"I haven't the slightest idea," after a quiet moment he queried. "Where's my tea?"

The girl didn't respond, it looked like she was intensely thinking of something. Was she mad at him? He made a grimace, sitting down on the carpet and straightening out his legs. Not likely. She would never be mad at him.

Still quiet, Anna rose, picked up clean bedclothes and went to his bed to change them. He followed her with his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" it really looked like it was. "I'm sorry I woke you up?"

"Don't be. I shouldn't have slept in the first place," she didn't turn back at him, her hands busy with work.

"Of course you should have! It's bad to emaciate your organism, right?"

She shot a glance at him and Hatter noticed her pensive smile.

"What if you ran away while I was asleep?"

"Why would I?" question baffled him for a brief second, but soon his head overflew with answers.

He wanted to go back to Annie, that little girl from his dreams, to go home, because he instinctively felt that this red mansion was all but something to call home. But he didn't have any clue where the home was or how to get there.

"Indeed, why would I?" he repeated in a hushed voice. "I wouldn't know where to go."

Some unseen emotion inundated her tired, joyless face, but she didn't say a thing. Hatter tilted his head to side, watching her in his usual scattered manner. Brown haired girl bent down to lay the sheet and he observed how her skirt lifted up, exposing more skin. Her legs were nice: thin and long, without any unnecessary mass, but not bony. Perhaps her whole body was like that, at least it seemed so given that the white uniform was quite skintight. A different colour came into view as she crouched even lower. _Yellow?_

Anna peeked over her shoulder and he felt that somewhere deep in his cheeks a scorching warmness started spreading. On the outside though, his pale skin barely gained colour, but he didn't know that. It seemed to him that his face was as red as those roses in the garden. After a quiet moment of staring, he reverted his green orbs, it wasn't hard for he felt uncomfortable gazing at her like this. Instead he concentrated on a dark flowery pattern of the carpet. To his great surprise he heard her melodious chuckle.

"You like what you see, mister?"

"Nnn-ies… I mean…" he scratched his neck nervously, too puzzled to even frown at 'mister.'

"Peeking isn't nice," she shook her finger at him and continued finishing her task, but she looked somewhat perked up.

Man just hemmed something in return. It was good to hear her laugh again, yet, something was bothering him. And it was definitely related to her in some mysterious way. Hatter shot a quick secretive slant at the girl, she was fluffing his pillow. As if sensing it, Anna glanced back and smiled when she met his eyes: lovely smile of a young woman, somehow he noticed laughter lines by the corners of her eyes. He cast down his own windows of soul, that weird feeling in his body got stronger, he couldn't understand it. When he lifted his head to look at her once more, she was already standing in front of him. The next moment she sat down right beside him.

"Where's my tea?" mumbled Hatter.

"Is that why you keep squinting at me?" judging from her tone, Anna was relaxed and cosy.

He wasn't used to her acting like this at all. Despite being gentle and sociable she would never get too close. But just for how long has he been staying at this place? It sure looked like weeks and months, but even he knew that time flows incredibly slowly when imprisoned and without any tangible activity.

Contemplations broke down at once when he felt her head settling on his shoulder.

"Let's run away, Hatter," Anna said under her breath and somewhat feebly, she notably wavered before uttering his name. "This place… It's terrible, you know…"

Hatter couldn't help but squint at her, fragments of his strayed mind whispering it could be a trap. Or that she was just messing with him.

"Bed is yours," angled his head to the mentioned direction.

"Wh-"

"Go, sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. Or to wake you up. That's up to you."

Nonplussed girl searched his face, hoping to spy something that would explain his answer. He looked away.

"What's wrong? You kept saying you want to leave, I thought…" she fell silent. "I don't… I can't stand being here."

"But where will you go?" man gave her her own question which she had asked him not that long ago. "I don't know a thing about this place, it's terrible, yes, but at least I get food everyday and this rickety bed. I'm not cold, they give me clothes. Out there this would probably be just a dream," he sunk his curly head. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not brave enough to risk it."

"I feel the same," she sighed. "But… I'll try, and I want you to come with me."

How could he say 'no' to her? He couldn't. Especially not when she looked at him like that: full of hope, as if everything depended on him. Maybe it did, but… He didn't want to run, he wanted to leave here with dignity. Her eyes kept pleading, her face was close as never before and it made him feel weird, something inside was attracting him to her. What was it?

Quietly orange head jumped to his feet and picked her up in a bridal style, beaming at Anna's stupefied face.

"What are you doing? Put me down," for some reason there was panic all over her expression. Was she… afraid of him? "Put me down!"

Hatter didn't say a thing and she just stared at him. He then made for the bed which caused her frantic struggle. It surprised him, but there was more strength in his arms than it seemed.

"H-Hatter, just…" with that he laid her on a hard surface and sat down on the floor himself, his back leaning against the side of the bed, facing her.

"Sleep," muttered in a serious way. "I'll think about it," it wasn't a 'no', at least not a clear one.

"Why…"

"Sleep, your head's not working properly."

"I'm fine, what…"

"You act weird, now sleep."

"I'm not!" she exclaimed with a rebuke.

"Mind explaining what was that just now?" Hatter pulled his knees to himself and pressed his chin against them.

Anna didn't reply. He suspected her biting her lip and turning away her eyes: she would always do it when feeling uncomfortable.

"Want me to tuck you in?"

"No," mumbled the girl after a moment of silence. From a rustle he understood that she got under the wrap.

He mentally sighed with relief, no more questioning, no more answer-dodging. His hat flew off of his head and man fixed his puzzled green gaze on it.

"Don't ever do that again," whispered Anna.

A note in her voice caught his attention. Hatter turned his head, but saw only her back. Listening to her breathing he sat there, unable to clarify what was it he was feeling or what bothered her so much. She wasn't fine, she wasn't her usual self at all.

* * *

 **Thanks to those who are still here reading this. Things are moving slow, but from now on I guess it'll only be the updates slowing down the story :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

" _She'll turn when you see her_

 _And laugh"_

* * *

Thoughts about this and that began to blend together and Hatter blinked few times to dissipate the blur before his eyes. He was about to drift off to the land of dreams. It didn't feel right for some reason. There was something in his mind urging him to talk to one in particular. Mad. Why? He couldn't answer that. But the effect of his medicine had finally worn off and the world around him made sense, a lot of sense, again.

Man stood up and looked at the girl, sleeping in his horrendous bed. She was curled up in a tight ball under the blanket (yes, he actually had a blanket for the time being). Was she really asleep? It would be awkward if she heard him talking to himself. Hesitating lightly, he bent over, inches apart from her face, he explored her expression. Everything looked peaceful, Anna didn't show any signs that she was faking. Acting on impulse, he reached out his hand and stroked her hair with his fingertips. Why? He didn't know. But if she wasn't sleeping, she would have flinched. The coast was clear, for a limited time though. Very limited.

On tiptoe Hatter stalked towards the table, grabbed the mirror and shut himself in a wardrobe. It was cramped and uncomfortable.

"Pssst, Mad," he whispered pulling the cover away. Only then it occurred to him that it might be difficult to see his reflection in dark. "Mad?"

"Your personal consultant is here. Speak louder, I barely hear you," grouched from the mirror.

"I can't, Anna's sleeping."

Surprisingly he could see Mad's face clearly, and he noticed him frown. He looked dead serious.

"Good, you must get out of here."

"Why are you both trying to make me do this?" Hatter bristled.

"Oh, she told you to run too. Smart," Mad's eyes flashed. "Don't trust her, there's something fishy about it."

"But she's the only normal person here…"

"And don't you find it strange?"

"Well yeah, but…"

But what? Nothing came to mind. It really was weird that only one person treated him as equal and wouldn't ignore him. Was it supposed to mean something?

"Hatter!" he gave a start because of a demanding bark. "Listen to me. This place is wicked, you can't stay here."

"You could've mentioned that sooner. It's not nice but it's not that bad ei..."

"Shut up, you don't know a thing," Mad looked angry and sort of worried, which was unusual. "The only hope now is the girl," barely audible words escaped his mouth, perhaps a failed attempt to think.

"What girl?" blinked Hatter.

"What girl?"

"That's what **I** want to know."

Mad stared at him intently for a while.

"You'll know when you meet her. Now go, get out, I'm not saying anything while she's here."

And the reflection became still. Hatter was left alone in the dusk of the closet. Get out? He wanted to see the garden, to breathe in some fresh air. Would it be bad if he did? Anna was sleeping anyways, he would come back before she wakes up. Man gazed at the mirror in his hands, thinking about everything Mad had said. He didn't want to believe it. Not the slightest.

He clambered out of the closet and placed talking mirror on a table, carefully covering it with a dirty cloth. Less and less he would question Mad's words and behavior, sometimes he would find that strange, but the feeling of trust for it was always there. Hesitant he threw a glance at Anna: she was even more huddled up than before, it worried him seeing her like that. She didn't have enough rest, but once asleep she looked scared. Was she having nightmares? Hatter couldn't force himself to leave her in such state. _Rose oil,_ he thought. One bottle was nearly perfect. Maybe a nice aroma will make her nightmares less awful.

He moistened a piece of his hat's ribbon with fragrant oil and very cautiously, so that not to wake her, put his beloved hat by the girl's head, tugged the ribbon closer to her nose. Watched her for a moment, then put the tightly screwed vial nearby as well. It felt weird. Normally he wouldn't leave his treasures with someone else, not even the cat was allowed to play with his hat. _Do I really trust her?_ A thought arrived, but he didn't escalate it.

Thick wooden door nailed his green orbs. He almost could hear it calling: come, come, open me! And he listened to that musical invitation. It lulled him pleasantly; he dragged his feet until they froze centimeters away from the door. He still wavered, he knew he was simply wasting his time.

Mustering the courage he didn't really have, Hatter seized the handle. Darksome narrow corridor opened up before his eyes. Walls hidden under soft shabby wallpapers. Moth-eaten carpet of unrecognizable colour and steep downward stairs. It never looked so gloomy and deserted to him before. He closed the door without glancing back and started descending. His journey dragged on for he strove not to cause any noise that could attract someone's attention.

Surprisingly, there were no people in white on each and every floor he had passed, as if they had disappeared while he was sleeping. Something ominous was hovering in the air.

When he noticed an open window on the ground floor, he hardly even glanced outside before jumping out through it. Man landed in a flowerbed of marigolds and pansies that ran around the mansion, they were more or less red. Somehow he only damaged one blossom: its stem bent under his boot, the rest of the flowers suffered minor injuries to their leaves. Feeling guilty, hatless Hatter plucked the bloom of marigold he had broken, he didn't want to ruin garden's harmony so carelessly.

If he was to stay unnoticed and not to give Anna trouble, he had to be quick. And so the orange-haired man darted over the rose garden. His running-forgotten legs did not listen to him well; they kept tripping over each other, not enough to make him topple over on his nose though. It seemed endless, the garden. How come he never noticed that? And there were more white rose bushes than he could remember. That is: more than one. Why? Hatter dived behind one of the many shoulder-length hedges and sprawled under a familiar bush of white blooms. One looked lightly pink, he painted it. With blood.

The sky above was grey, like a mat of fluffy dust accumulated over time on a cupboard surface. He didn't expect that, it should have been azure, blue with whisps of clouds. Grass, on the other hand, was all the same, green and luscious; soon one green stalk found its way to his mouth, filling it with a fresh flavour. Roses gave a hardly describable scent, typical to these flowers. The cat was gone, he could have used its company right now. It was quiet and empty around. Unusual, but pleasant. _I should get some roses for the oil,_ he thought. He lifted his hand, twirling a marigold between his fingers.

Alone in fresh summer garden he finally relaxed. There was nothing to be afraid of, no-one to thrust him weird pills, nothing and no-one to disturb him. _The day is beautiful._ He could just lie here until wind got stronger or evening came. Yeah... But there was Anna... Should he escape with her? It would be nice and reassuring to have someone familiar by his side. It would be easier. Should he wait for that mysterious girl and run with her? Would it change anything? He would still run away. He would still have a person beside. And then what? There was nothing behind him, nor there was anything ahead. The time and place of his existence was **now**. Should he run alone? While the garden was still forgotten? He could. But again, there was Anna and he didn't know what to do with her. Those few minutes he had (oh how much he wished for more!) were fading, she won't sleep long.

With a sigh Hatter trained his eyes on the buds above. Why weren't there any other roses besides roses? Flowers. Other flowers besides roses. Why was he the only one who didn't wear white? He was back to the same old questions as always…

"Ouch!"

At first the man didn't even react at a sudden silent gasp. It was probably just another prank of his mind. Sometimes he used to see or hear things that didn't exist in matter. But soft humming in the background of garden's hush just wouldn't disappear. He couldn't say where it was coming from. After a moment of listening, Hatter rolled over on his stomach. Behind a few white bushes ahead glimpsed curly golden hair and some white thing, perhaps clothes. It was a girl. Five-six-seven years old as far as he could tell. _A little older than my Annie._ The thought startled him, he shook it off immediately. Seeing her made him sad, she was just a kid and she was already raised to be white. She still looked like every other five-six-seven year old though. A girl was strolling around the roses, occasionally crouching to smell them. It took him a while to perceive that her feet were bare. He gaped at them; white ones wore sandals or flip-flops at the very least. Did that mean she wasn't one of them? If only it was so simple. _Who are you?_ Her being just another creation of his taunting mind seemed logical enough to believe it. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

While he was busy with his mind and its questions, the girl had vanished from his field of vision.

Disturbed and intrigued Hatter lifted his orange head, hoping to see a strip of white. In vain. She was gone. But that quiet humming reverberated somewhere within measurable distance. Before he knew, he was slowly getting up. The garden area around the roses, bounded by green fences, was empty. He looked around, trying to determine where the melody was coming from, but it felt as if it was everywhere and nowhere in particular at the same time. Hunched down he slinked to the nearest hedge and peered over the top of it. Just roses, bulging out like colourful pouffes on the ground. Nothing behind the other as well. He frowned unable to understand the situation. Where could she go? Right... _She actually was a prank of my head._ It was ridiculous to expect a real thing…

Hatter sat down in front of a red bush and leaning against the hedge got himself stuck in it as usual. Whatever, he didn't come here to chase something that didn't exist. Snap! A branch broke under his weight and sent shivers down his spine; the sound ghostly loud in this deserted garden. He carefully squirmed, struggling to free himself from these vegetable chains before he caused any more traitorous noise. But his efforts turned against him: up to his chest he tumbled out on the other side of the hedge. _That will leave a hole..._ the thought and the image of it was funny, but he didn't even move his lips. _I'm stuck and it's really uncomfortable._ He didn't want to damage his clothes, as long as they were fine and hole-free he didn't have to wear white. As long as they were fine he wasn't a real prisoner, he was… The train of thought slipped away. _Who am I?… You're Hatter… Am I?... Why shouldn't you be?... What am I?... You're-you're a free person… I am?... It might not look like it, but… Yes, I'm stuck in the hedge. I don't want to move… Then don't, you're free to choose… But I promised Ann… You don't have to keep that promise if you don't want to… But I want… What's the problem then?... I don't want to move… How will you get back to Anna if you don't move?... I don't know… And didn't you just say this was uncomfortable only a moment ago?... It is… Then move, fix it… But I don't want to… Do you even know what you want?..._ Hatter slowly blinked, his eyes searching the clouds. What did he want indeed? There was this quiet, unobtrusive voice that would whisper him something once in a while. And it was: disappear, cease to exist, become free from all the trouble. Yet, it sounded too difficult, too dark; not that he wished for something bright and cheerful.

You want to be mad. That was all the voice has been murmuring today. His orange head was ready to pursue it. It would be easier if he just went mad for good, wouldn't it? Should he try? What if he didn't like it? Would he know that, would he be able to get back his sanity? So many unknowns… But Anna would be disappointed for sure, somehow he knew it. Did he really care what she thought about him? There was no answer to this. _Ookay…_ Hatter gave some effort to force himself to move a bit. It wasn't as bad as he had assumed. He freed his hands and with their help dragged himself to a different side of the hedge. Making regular short breaks between his halting motions, orange-head gradually wriggled out of his bonds. Lying in the grass was nice, he always liked it. A touch of wind blew over his face.

"I don't want to move," murmured softly, closing his eyes. "I should get some roses… What to do, what do I do? Tell me, Mad…"

But Mad was in his room, hiding behind a glassy mirror surface. Instead there was a girl's voice singing a distant melody of a song that felt somewhat familiar, or at least he wanted to believe it was familiar.

"I should get some roses," repeated, now convinced that the voice appeared due to his inability to make up his mind.

Hatter looked around from his comfortable position on the ground. One red bush was only a few steps away from his head. Unwillingly he rolled on his stomach and crawled up closer. Placing his chin on his hands, he peeked from under the branches. The girl was there, closer than he could have expected. She was kneeling by one of the white bushes. His expression swiftly changed from suspicious to confused to surprised to puzzled and back to surprised again. To see someone doing something he wanted to do from the very beginning… Watching that mysterious girl hum while painting the bud with bright red colour left him speechless. She was white; she was supposed to like white roses. The sound of her lively voice suddenly ceased, girl angled her head and their eyes met. It made him start. Her big blue orbs were curious, dotted with impish twinkles. _Maybe if I don't move..._ But at that moment she jumped, still following him. First thing he had noticed was red. Red fingers and palms. Two huge red pools on her knee-length dress. A narrow red streak running down her right shin. What was that? He kept his eyes trained on her as she stalked towards him. _I'm safe, I'm perfectly safe,_ he chanted, hoping she was interested in something nearby and her eyes following him was just his imagination. Somehow he felt intimidated, the girl emanated some surreal, incomprehensible waves that evoked discomfort within him.

Barefoot feet were shifting from one to another right in front of his face.

"Hi-ii!" voice clear, not much different from those of the same age girls. It had a merry chime.


End file.
